Dirty Dealing
by dontmissthis
Summary: Paddy Doyle manipulates Jane into doing his bidding at BPD, while he uses his daughter to bring in money at his club. Very AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and this is the only time I'm writing this. **

**A/N: Okay. I don't even know why I'm doing this. If it's something that's overdone or something you're not interested in, let me know. It saves me the time of finishing it! (:**

**xxxxx**

Rus is Italian, tall, muscular, tough as nails. He has a scar running from his eyebrow to his chin from a knife fight he barely made it out of—after killing four other men, that is. On most days I'm afraid to even look his way. But right now he's grabbing my arm and leading me to a club, giddy as a teenage boy. Apparently it's some big ass privilege to get invited here by Paddy Doyle, but what the fuck do I care. I just secretly do his bidding at BPD so he doesn't come and fucking kill me.

Rus walks up to the bouncer and does some weird as hell handshake that I won't even bother trying to memorize. The bouncer nods his head to the door. "You know where to go."

"Alright, c'mon," Rus says as he drags me inside. It looks like a normal strip club to me. It's darkly lit with a bar in the corner and a few tables around the stage. A few girls are dancing on poles and some more are giving lap dances. I really don't see what's so fucking special.

Well, until we go down the hall and he drags me into the room on the right. It's VIP quality shit. It's just as dark, but there's no bar. Each person has their own personal waitress—dressed pretty fucking conservative, but I guess they don't want to chance being used for a dance—and expensive looking leather chair. In the center of the room there's a single pole with a much sexier girl on it than on the ones in the main room. I look over to the far corner and I swear my mouth fucking drops open.

There's a huge chair—well, more like a fucking throne—with a woman sitting in it. The hottest fucking woman I've ever seen, actually. She's wearing a choker, corset, and thong like the rest of them, except hers seem so much more elaborate. Like she's the fucking best of the best and she knows it. Her face solemnly scans the room until she meets my gaze. I stumble and she gives me a sideways smile.

"Don't even think about it, Curly. You don't have a chance in hell with her," Rus says as he pushes me into my chair.

I look over and scowl at him. "How the fuck do you know that? My money is just as good as everyone else's'. And don't call me Curly."

He laughs and takes a scotch from his waitress. "Yeah, but not enough money for her. She _picks _who she dances with and doesn't dance very often. But when she does, hot damn she does it right," he exclaims as he downs the rest of his drink.

I get handed a beer and then look back at him. "Have you ever gotten one from her?"

"Nah," he scoffs, "She picks guys with the big money. Ya know, the ones her daddy tells her to dance with."

My eyebrows shoot up damn near my hairline. No way in hell does he mean what I think he means. "Her dad?"

"Yeah, Curly, her dad. Paddy Doyle. He uses her to make sure the rich ones keep coming back. Like I said, she's good."

He calls the closest girl over and slips some money in her garter as she straddles his lap. I look back up at Paddy's daughter to see she's still looking at me. I want to look away, I really do, but fuck it's like her gaze has me in a trance.

I only look away when a girl walks in front of me and blocks my view. She bends down and places her hands on the arms of the chair. "Would you like a dance?"

She's hot. Nice legs, nice tits. But she doesn't even compare to the woman in the corner. "Not right now," I say as I wave her away.

When I look back up, I instantly freeze. She's walking right over to me. Well, strutting. All the other dancers have on plain red corsets, black thongs, and normal heels. Hers is royal blue with black lace across her tits and her thong is still black, but it has blue lace to match around the edges. And dear fucking god, her shoes are the tallest fucking things I've ever seen. Not that I'm complaining, her legs look fucking great. I'm pretty sure I'm going to pass out before she even gets over here.

I see Rus gaping at me out of the corner of my eye as she straddles my lap with no warning.

I smell her perfume as she leans against me. "Don't worry…"

"Jane," I manage to croak out as I cling to the arms of the chair. No way in hell am I going to get kicked out for the 'don't touch unless told' rule with a perfect 10 like her straddling me.

Her hands roam up my stomach, across my tits and up to my shoulders. "Don't worry, Jane. This one's for free," she whispers. Her hot breath against my ear gives me chills.

She leans back and pushes her tits in my face as she lowers herself down onto my lap. Her head falls back as she starts grinding forward and back against me. I can feel the heat of her against me through my thin slacks. She sees me staring at her tits so she brings her hands up and slowly undoes the ties. She tosses it to the ground and is only left in a navy blue bra. She starts grabbing at them, pushing them together, and slowly starts to bounce against my lap. The muscles in her legs are tensing and it's all I can do not to touch them. My hands are clinging on to the arms of the chair like it's my fucking life boat. I'm so turned on I can barely stand it. Rus was right, she's fucking good.

She bites her bottom lip and grabs my hands. I start breathing faster as I realize what she's about to do. She puts my hands on top of her bra and squeezes. I feel a jolt run throughout my body and I know I'm in trouble. "Touch me, Jane," she pants out.

Like I could argue that. I start rubbing her tits and feel her nipples get even harder under the fabric. She moves to where she's just straddling one of my thighs and grinds down harder, faster than before. "Touch…me," she gasps out.

My hands roam down her sides and around to her ass. It's muscular, but still more than enough for me to grab on to. I push her down even harder against my leg and pull her back and forth against me. Her hands grab my biceps and her forehead falls against my shoulder. She's breathing harder and harder and the grip on my arms is almost painful.

"Oh…gahh," she cries out after a few more minutes. Her whole body tenses up and then goes slack against me. Her hips are still moving on my leg, but only barely so. There is no fucking way that this just happened. Holy shit. I've never been more turned on in my entire life. Ever.

Once she's finally gotten her breathing under control, she leans up to my ear. "Next time, we'll get a private room," she pauses to pull my earlobe between her teeth, "You won't regret it."

She gets off my lap and smiles. A real smile with dimples and I swear I almost die. She's not just hot, she's beautiful. After giving me a wink, she walks back over to her chair in the corner.

I look over at Rus and he's staring at me, mouth agape. "Holy fuck, Curly. I've been coming here for years and she's never given me the time of day. You're a lucky little shit, ain't ya?"

I laugh as I stand up to walk out. "You don't know the half of it."

….

….

**Interested? No? It could just be left as a one shot if you'd like!**


	2. Chapter 2

I nervously drum my fingers on my knee as I wait for Doyle to come in. This is bad. Really, really bad. He normally just has one of his cronies call me on a Trac phone and tell me what to do. I've never been called to his office before, and I'd rather not be ever again.

The door opens and he walks to prop himself against the desk in front of me. His face is expressionless, hard. Just by looking at him you wouldn't think he did the stuff he does. But I've seen it. I know he's not someone to fuck with. I'm breathing harder and harder every minute that goes by without talking.

He pulls out his knife and starts running his finger up and down the edges. "I need you to do something for me, Rizzoli."

Well if he needs me, that at least means he isn't about to kill me. I will myself to not fidget around anymore. I don't need him second-guessing me. "Alright," I say with a nod. I'm proud of myself for not letting any of my nervousness shine through in my voice.

"Seems like some of my boys made a little mistake a couple of nights ago," he stops to spin the tip of his knife against his finger, "Forgot to wear gloves…left a few bullets. I don't want cops snooping around here, so I need you to get rid of the evidence for me before anyone finds out it was my men."

I feel the blood fucking drain from my face. This is bad. Shit. I usually only have to lead my team in the wrong direction to give Doyle's men time to get the hell out of dodge. But destroying evidence? This is so fucking bad. There are so many ways I could get caught. I shakily nod my head. "I, uh…yeah, okay. I can do that."

He senses my apprehension and his nostrils flare. He stabs his desk so hard with the knife that only the handle is still visible. He glares and gets right up in my face. "I saved your life, Rizzoli. Don't make me regret it. You know what happens then."

I don't even flinch as he moves to where our noses are almost touching. I force my breathing to slow down so it looks like I'm a little more confident than I'm currently feeling. "I know. "

He pats my leg as he pushes back to work the knife back out of the table. "Good. Darrel and Raves will be outside. They'll cut the power at exactly 12:15 tomorrow afternoon. The rest is up to you."

If I don't do this, he'll fucking kill me without batting an eye. And Doyle makes sure that the death of the people who failed him is a slow and painful one. I've seen it way too many times to go through that. I clench my jaw and nod. "It'll get done."

His harsh laugh pierces the room. "You bet your ass it will."

….

I slip into the back of a car in front of my apartment at midnight. Its windows are tinted so black, you can't even see out of them. That calms my nerves only a little. Doyle holds out his hand and I drop the evidence back in it.

He holds it up in front of him, as if he could honestly see in this dark as fuck car. He claps his arm on my shoulder and jostles me as he tosses the bag in the seat between us. "I knew it'd be good to keep you around. You haven't let me down yet," he turns to where I can just make out the white of his eyes, "and you better not any time soon."

A cold chill runs through my body. I'm in too deep. There's no way for me to get out of this shit unless I die or the feds take me in. I shake my head even though I'm pretty sure he can't see it. "I won't."

"Good. I might even let you move up in the ranks soon if you keep doing shit like this for me. Takes some balls, Rizzoli."

I don't want to move up in his fucking ranks. That'd only make it even harder for me to get the fuck out. And I know I've only made it this far based on pure luck, it has nothing to do with being confident or having balls. My luck is probably going to run out soon and I know it. Hell, he probably knows it too, but it doesn't matter. This is all just some big fucking game to him. And I have to play just to survive. "Sounds good to me."

We pull up in front of his club and his driver opens the door for me. I had no fucking idea we were coming here or I probably would've dressed a little fucking better. Doyle tosses a wad of cash at me as I start to climb out of the car. "Drinks are on me tonight, kid. You earned it."

"Thanks," I say to him as I hear the most obnoxious car horn I've ever heard in my fucking life.

And of course, it's Rus. I leave Doyle and walk over to him as he's locking his doors. He looks up and gives me his uneven grin caused by that scar. He looks really fucking creepy and honestly, I'm pretty sure he'd look just as creepy without it. He's just that kind of guy. "I didn't know you were coming here tonight, Curly."

I shove the money in my pocket and shrug my shoulders. "Yeah, me either."

"Oh, I see. Doyle brought ya? That's a fucking good sign, Curly. He doesn't just give rides to anyone." He stops and gives the bouncer that same dumb as hell handshake. " You might even get another dance from your girl tonight if you keep being so goddamn lucky."

"Yeah, she said we'd get a private room the next time I was here. Whatever the hell that means."

Rus stops right in the middle of the fucking hallway and looks at me. I think he's going to die from fucking shock. "Hot damn, Curly. She _never_ takes people to private rooms. Last guy that asked her to go to one showed up dead in a river the next day."

What the fuck is up with this fucking family? "Uh, you mean she actually killed him for asking?"

He starts laughing and shakes his head. "No, but Paddy did. He doesn't like anyone messing with her. He's okay with showing her off and letting her bring in the big money, but he doesn't want anyone touching her like that."

He opens the door and holds it open for me. She's sitting in that same chair in the corner and I'll be damned if she isn't already staring at me. Rus nudges me through the door and starts walking us to a couple of chairs. "I'd be careful if I were you, kid. He doesn't take well to people messing with family."

I sit down and drop my head into my hands. If I mess up—he kills me or I go to jail. If I try to get out of this fucked up mess—he kills me or I go to jail. If he even catches wind of his daughter asking me to go to a private room—he probably kills me. What the fuck have I actually gotten myself into? I really wish he would've let me fucking die instead of dragging me into this.

Rus slaps at my arm and I look up. Maura is walking—no, she's fucking strutting over to me. Her heels are taller, her corset is tighter, and her thong is skimpier. She has on a garter belt with thin straps over her thighs connecting to garters. The rest of her legs are bare and I swallow so loud I'm pretty sure everyone in the room heard it.

She places her hands on the arms of my chair and bends down to where she's eye level with me. She does this seductive as hell half-smirk and traces one finger along my jawline. It feels like my skin is on fire everywhere she touches. She leans up to where her mouth is right against my ear and her warm, damp breath is causing goosebumps on my arms. "Would you like to go somewhere more private with me, Jane?"

My eyes flutter close at the sound of her voice. Do I? Hell fucking yes. Should I? Hell no. There's a pretty good chance Doyle will kill me for going with her. But the way she smells, the way she looks, the way she talks… I just really don't think I_ can_ say no. Maybe if she wasn't so damn mysterious or maybe if she wasn't so seemingly unobtainable, I could say no. But I'm dying to know more about her. I open my eyes and vehemently nod, silently cursing myself for acting so anxious. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Good. Follow me," she says as I stand up. She reaches over to me and takes my hand in hers. As we're weaving through the chairs to get to the back, she absentmindedly starts tracing the scars on my hands. I almost pull my hand back, but it just feels so _right _for her to be rubbing them. Which is fucking weird since they're the reason I'm in this mess to begin with.

She's slightly ahead of me as we walk down another hall to the private rooms, so I can't help but stare at her ass. It gets harder for me to breathe with every step she takes. The straps dig into her ass a little bit each time she moves. I swear my knees almost give out as I realize I was grabbing it as she rode my leg just last weekend. Holy Shit. This woman will be the death of me and I don't even know her fucking name.

She pulls me through a door and locks it behind us. The room is small and the lights are dimmed. There's a pole in the middle of the room with a couch against the wall, less than three feet from it. She pushes me down onto the middle of the couch with a smile before walking over to the pole. She wraps her hands around it and drops down to the ground. Her legs are spread and I can't even help but stare at her. I've never been so jealous of a pole my entire life. She pushes her body against the pole as she slowly drags herself back up into a standing position.

I want her to keep going, but she just smirks and walks over to the cart across from me. "Do you like champagne?"

I like beer more, but I'm pretty sure I'd drink cyanide if she offered it to me right now. "Um, yeah. Sure."

She grabs the bottle and comes back towards me. Just when I think she's going to sit beside me, she straddles my lap again. Her fingers quickly undo the front of the corset and throw it on the ground. My eyes leave her face to trail down to her bra. Holy shit, I really want to fucking touch her. But unless she says I can, I won't.

She reaches behind her and unclasps her bra. It falls down to my lap in between us, but I hardly even notice. I'm too busy staring at her tits. They're round, perfect, and right in my face. She puts her fingers under my chin and lifts my face to look at her. She's smiling but it's not a smile you'd expect from someone in this business. Rus said she never brought people back here, so maybe she's feeling a little of what I'm feeling towards her. "It looks like our staff forgot to bring glasses, so I'm afraid we'll have to improvise. "

My mouth is so fucking dry, all I can do is nod. She sits up straighter to where I'm looking up at her. "Open your mouth," she says as she pops the cork.

I'm expecting her to just let the fizz rolling out of the bottle pour into my mouth, but no. She puts the bottle up to her collarbone and tilts. The champagne rolls down her chest and off her nipple into my mouth. Oh dear shit. It's all I can do not to choke to death. After my mouth is full, she drops the bottle to the ground and it spills everywhere. Not that I fucking care. I just stare at her, wide-eyed as I try to swallow without coughing.

She lets out a breathy laugh and trails a finger down the length of my nose. "You're not going to leave me like this, are you," she asks as she looks down to her wet chest.

Please let her be insinuating what I think she is. As if reading my mind, she nods and pushes closer to me. I tentatively go in and lick the skin right over her ribs. Her fingers tangle in my hair and she pulls me closer. I take that as a yes and start licking between her tits, above them, her collarbone. She starts grinding herself against me as I start gently biting her chest. I wait until everything else is cleaned off and then I pull her nipple into my mouth. Her head falls back and she moans the sexiest noise I have ever heard in my entire life. I pull as much of her as I can into my mouth and suck until she cries out again. I pull back, slowly letting her nipple graze my teeth as I release it.

Her chest is heaving up and down as she tries to catch her breath. I'm clenching my fists so hard that I can't even feel my fingers. She finally opens her eyes and looks back down at me. "Did you know, those who converse well in these types of situations are naturally better lovers?"

I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. There's something special about her. "No, I didn't."

"Well, I'd just like to let you know…you are certainly good at telling me what you like. I have no doubts about you being a good sexual partner."

I'm pretty sure I haven't spoken more than five words at a time with her. And I definitely haven't told her anything I like. "Oh. Thanks?"

"You may not believe me, but you have let me know what you enjoy. You may not have verbally said anything, but there are lots of ways to tell me." She leans in so close, I can feel the body heat bouncing between us.

She places both hands on top of my chest. "You tell me with your breath. You use deep breaths to calm yourself and quick breaths to let me know that I'm doing something right."

She moves one hand and slowly traces my bottom lip with her thumb. I try to stifle the moan that's constantly trying to slip out whenever she's around. "You tell me with your bitten lip, the upturned corners of your mouth that you're finding pleasure with whatever I'm doing."

She moves her finger up and trails it across my cheek and up to my forehead. "You tell me with the look of awe that crosses over your face, your raised eyebrow."

"But most importantly," she looks down and takes one of my fists in her hands, "you tell me with your clenched fists and outstretched fingers that you're on the brink of losing your self-control."

She slowly works my hand open and stares at my palm. Her thumb starts brushing over the scar in the middle and I tense up. I don't have any problem with shaking hands or anything, but I haven't ever let anyone scrutinize them so closely.

She senses my unease and slowly looks up. "What happened?"

I almost blurt out everything that happened to me last year, but catch myself at the last minute. She's a stranger—Paddy Doyle's fucking daughter. There's no way I should share my deepest, darkest secrets with her when I don't even know her fucking name. I pull my hand back and set it back down on the couch beside me. "How am I supposed to answer that when I don't even know what to call you?"

She tilts her head and knits her brow together. I want to reach up and wipe the concern off her face, but I don't. "You can call me anything you want, Jane."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, right. Of course I can. You expect me to talk to you about this," I raise my hands up between us, "when you can't even tell me your first name? No. I don't think so."

For all I know, she just brought me back here to seduce me into telling her if I'm working against her father. I'm not—because I really like being alive—but I don't need to tell her anything. Especially if she was trying to get me to rat myself out. I was totally wrong about her.

"Jane, I—"

"Using your body to try and get information out of me? No fucking thanks."

A flash of hurt appears in her eyes before I ease her off of me and stand up. I fling the wad of money Doyle gave to me at her, open the door, and walk out. I don't even stop when she cries out my name through a sob. For all I know, she's a really fucking good fake crier.

I hate this world I've gotten myself wrapped up in. If he kills me for not bending to his daughter's every wish, so be it. I don't even fucking care anymore. I'm going to get myself out of this one way or another. No matter what it takes.

….


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I enjoy reading them!**

…**.**

"Goddamnit," Doyle yells as he throws his glass across the room. He's gathered twelve of his most useful guys up—plus me—and brought us to the club. "We've got to figure out who set that fucking fire. I lost two of my men _and _my office. We can't even get shit done because none of you are focused."

Well what the fuck does he expect? He brought us to the room down the hall and turned the music off, but it hasn't stopped the dancers from trying to climb all over us every five seconds. Well, except his daughter. She's sitting over there in the corner drinking wine and staring at me. Seriously staring. There isn't even another word for it. I'd be uncomfortable of her scrutiny if I wasn't doing the same right back at her. She's so fucking beautiful, it's unsettling. How something that looks like her came from him, I'll never know. Her deceit makes up for it though, I'm sure. I still can't believe she tried to use me like that. Father like daughter.

Doyle starts talking about some plan of action or something, but I tune him out and focus on her. Her face looks like she's longing to come over here and talk to me, to try and explain things. But, she can't because Paddy's here and she's only allowed around people he approves of. I guarantee I'm not one of them.

She bites her lip and puts her drink down without breaking her gaze. She nervously rubs her hands on her thighs and puts both feet down on the ground. Just when I think she's about to get up, I feel a sharp pain in my forearm and look down.

Doyle pulled his knife out and ran it down the length of my arm. No wonder my arm fucking hurts. It's more than a scratch, but not bad enough to need stitches. Blood starts coming to the surface and he grabs my chin to look up at him. "You listen here, kid. When I'm speaking, you pay attention to me," he reaches down and pinches at the cut on my arm, "Got it?"

It hurts, but I don't even wince. This fucking bastard doesn't deserve the satisfaction of getting to see me in pain even though I'm fucking terrified. If I wasn't the only homicide detective doing his dirty work, he surely would've killed me on the spot. "Yeah, Boss. Understood."

"Good," he says as he leans back in his chair. "We need you to keep them off our trail. The cops were there before we could get the bodies out, so it's being investigated as a possible homicide. I had files and documents in there. If you find anything like that, you have to get rid of it. I don't want anything there traced back to us."

Blood is slowly dripping down my arm onto my pants. Is living in constant fear of getting caught—or worse—better than not living at all? Even if I do get out of this, he'll come for my family. My entire fucking life is in his hands. I'm in so deep that this isn't just about me anymore. I'll do what I have to do to keep my family safe. "I'll start going through stuff tomorrow. If they find anything, I'll make sure to get rid of it."

"Don't let me down, kid." He stands and shoves his knife in his pocket. "Alright, I'm out of here. You all had better find out who started that fire sooner than later, understood?"

Everyone mumbles their consent and starts leaving the club. Rus waits until he's the only one left and looks at my arm and then up at me. "Be careful, Curly. I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

I nod my head and down the rest of my warm beer. "Don't worry about me. I can handle myself."

He laughs and stands up. "Yeah, I'm sure you can," he looks across the room and smiles, "Looks like your girl is coming over. Try to watch yourself, Jane."

My head pops up at the sound of my name. He has never used it before. Shit. He isn't joking around anymore. I have got to be careful of what I'm doing from now on.

I take a deep breath and watch her walk over to me, towel in hand. I want to get up and leave, but the look in her eye causes me to stay. She sits on the arm of the chair beside me and wipes the damp towel across my arm to clean off the blood. My breathing increases at the gentleness of her movements. Like she's done this thousands of times before.

"It doesn't appear to need stitches," she says as she turns my arm to where she can see it better. Her soft fingers skim the length of my arm. "Just make sure to apply a bandage when you get home and clean it to ward off infection."

Her hazel eyes flick up at me as she gently drops my arm back down to my lap. I want to hate her for using me, I really fucking do. But I just don't think she was trying to get information out of me. I think she was genuinely curious and I ran out like a damn fool. Of course, I can't say this because I need to stay the fuck away from her. I can't be involved with her. Rus already told me what would happen if I did.

"Thanks," I mumble as I abruptly stand to leave. I turn to walk to the door when her hand grabs my bicep. I look back at her and she gives me a ghost of a smile.

"Maura," she whispers. My eyes narrow and she shrugs her shoulders. "So you know what to call me from now on."

Well damnit. I wish she hadn't told me. I wish she hadn't trusted me enough to open up to me like that because now I feel even more drawn to her. I want the one person I can't have. It's an impossible situation with not one remotely good outcome.

"Maura," I say, loving the way it rolls off my tongue. I want to say it every day for the rest of my life. Too bad we both know that can never happen.

She gives my arm a squeeze before dropping her hand. "You aren't the only one that's been roped into this, Jane. Just remember that not everyone is out to get you," she says quietly so no one else can hear.

She walks away before I even have a chance to reply. Does this mean she's on my side? Does it mean she's wants out of this as much as I do? Paddy Doyle be damned. There's no way in hell I'm staying away from her now. There's a lot to lose, but I feel like there's a lot more to gain with her around.

…..

Next chapter has more Maura/Jane interaction. Also will delve further into how Jane got pulled into this.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yay for reviews! Love them. Hopefully this is okay (:**

…

Low salt sweet pickles, semi-crunchy pickles, flat-edged dill pickles, organic sour pickles…Why the fuck does this health freak store have so many damn kinds of pickles. I knew there was a reason I never went in here even though it's the closest store to my house. I can't even find a jar of regular fucking pickles, for Christ's sake.

I grab the closest jar as I hear—rather than see—someone come up behind me. "Sorry," I mutter as I go to move out of the way. It's not until I look up at them that I almost drop the fucking jar I spent ten minutes trying to decide on.

Maura.

She hasn't moved, she's just standing there—eyes round as saucers—not knowing what the fuck to do. This is a tricky situation and she knows it. Doyle's men randomly follow me sometimes to make sure I'm on the straight and narrow, so I can only imagine how much they watch his own damn daughter.

A few more seconds of staring at each other in shock, she finally walks up next to me and we both focus on the shelf in front of us, pretending to look for something that isn't really there. She must know they follow her, too.

"Jane, I didn't expect to see you here," she whispers out of the side of her mouth.

Our hands quickly brush as we both try to pull the same can off the shelf and I feel the tingling all the way to my stomach. I've got it bad. "I normally don't come here. Too health-conscious for me," I say without looking at her.

Out of the corner I see her smile and nod to herself. I guess I give off the 'eat take out and drink beer almost every night' kinda vibe. She turns to go back to her cart and brushes up against my arm. "I'll make sure to talk you tonight after your meeting. It'll be safer there."

Before I can answer her without having to use a normal voice, she's walking off with her cart down the aisle. Even when she's fully dressed with only a fraction of the make-up, she's fucking beautiful. Even if it's only for a few minutes, I wouldn't miss out on talking to her tonight for the world. She just seems like the kind of woman that's worth it.

….

She's riding, grinding, straddling some man. They're laughing and talking, so she's not aiming to get off, just aiming to please him—to coax money out of him. But, I fucking hate it. She looks over here every so often and I can't tell if she's trying to make me jealous or trying to silently say she's sorry. I really wish we could have our meeting somewhere else so I didn't have to fucking see this shit.

"You found out anything about the fire, kid," Doyle asks as he finally joins us and sits down.

I look away from Maura and shake my head. "No. Forensics hasn't even found anything besides the bodies. Apparently it got really fucking hot because they were scorched. They're looking for traces of an accelerant, last I heard."

"That's good."

I wait on him to say if he's any closer to finding out who did it, but he doesn't. He never tells me about the guys he's going after. I guess I haven't reached that level of trust yet. Even if I do risk my fucking job every day for his sorry ass.

He starts talking to Rus about a drug deal or some shit and I look around to find Maura. She's with some other guy, but she's clearly not very fucking happy about it. Not like she's happy doing this anyway, so it must be really fucking rough.

He keeps trying to rub her thighs, touch her stomach, kiss at her neck. Every time she pushes his arms away or moves just out of reach from his lips without getting up. He must be on Paddy's good list and fucking loaded for her to still be putting up with his bullshit.

"Rizzoli, goddamnit. Pay attention," Doyle barks at me.

"Yeah," I say, still not bothering to look at him.

I see Doyle get up and start to walk towards me out of the corner of my eye, but I'm still watching Maura. The guy pulls out a knife and she instantly freezes. I stand up, fully intending to go over there, not even caring that Doyle may fucking kill me before I get the chance to get to her.

He pushes the knife right under her bra, between her tits, and pulls against the fabric. Her hands are by her side, she's too scared to move. I start to run over to her as he gets bolder and starts to run his hand up the inside of her thigh. No fucking way am I going to let someone treat her like that. I don't really even know her, but I know she deserves a lot more than this shit. Right as I get halfway to her, a shot rings out and Maura screams.

Blood starts running and oozing from the man's forehead from being shot between the eyes. This is why I try not to fuck with Paddy Doyle. He could fucking love you and he'd still shoot you in the head, twenty feet across the room.

Maura's frozen to her spot on his lap and I gently pull her to a standing position. Her hands wrap around my arm, but she's still staring at him—her lip quivering and eyes watering just enough for me to notice since I'm so close to her.

Paddy finally walks over and pushes me towards the back. "Help her clean up while I get rid of this son of a bitch."

Her head drops to look at the floor as I pull her back to one of those private rooms. She hasn't said a word—scared to fucking death is my guess—so I gently push her down on the couch. I look around for something to use, but there isn't even a bucket of ice this time. Before I can go to the bathroom to get some towels, she grabs my arm. "Don't. Just…stay with me," her eyes finally flick up to meet mine and a tear escapes and trails through the spattered blood on her face, "Please."

How the hell am I supposed to say no when she's looking at me like that? I pull off my jacket and start dabbing at the blood on her neck and arms. "Okay," I say as her chest shakes with a sob, "I'm not going anywhere."

She looks broken, shattered. She isn't cut out for a life like this. Hell, neither am I. I have got to come up with a plan to get us out from under this bastard's control. After I finish wiping the blood off of her, I throw my jacket in the corner. There's no way I'll ever be able to wear it without thinking of this again anyway.

I sit down next to her and she crawls onto my lap and starts crying against my neck. I'm not going to tell her everything will be okay when it probably won't be, so I just rub her arms to try and get rid of the chill bumps on her arms. Somehow, I doubt they're because she's cold.

After a few minutes she pulls back and starts wiping under her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just don't think I'll ever get used to seeing those sorts of things."

So apparently this happens all the time. Great. Not making me feel any better about finding a way to get out of this. I reach and grasp both of her hands in mine. Her fingers are soft, pale. Totally different from my calloused tan ones. Everything about us is so fucking different, but here we are. Stuck in this clusterfuck together.

"I'm a homicide detective and I don't think _I _will ever get used to seeing those sorts of things."

That gets a weak smile out of her. "I knew you were different," she says as she moves around to straddle my lap. It's not at all sexual. Just a way for her to have the comfort of knowing I'm really not going to get up and leave her. "Why did you start working for him?"

Her eyes scan my face and her finger tips rub against my arms. I really, really don't want to tell her this whole story, but I guess it's better now than never. Especially if it'll help her feel a little bit better. She did just watch a man die, after all.

I hold my hands up between us, making sure she can see the scars. "Some sick fuck attacked me in an alley and Doyle killed him. He was about to kill me, too, but then he saw my badge. I guess he figured he could use me, so he told me I could live if I did his dirty work." I finally put my hands down and look away from her. "Sometimes I wish he would've just let me die. It'd be a lot better than this."

I look back at her and see nothing but compassion in her eyes. "I understand…" she trails off, internally debating on whether or not to elaborate. One of her fingers starts slowly tracing around the scar on my palm. "I only do this so he will continue to fund my free clinic. He allows me to keep it open only if I do this for him on the weekends," her eyes look back up at me, "I know he wouldn't harm me if I stopped, but he would be killing numerous who can't afford the services my clinic provides. I can't bear to let that happen."

Her eyes are watering again and I can barely stand it. She doesn't have to let him use her like this, she doesn't gain a damn thing from it. But she does it just so she can keep helping other people. If that's not the definition of a good person, I don't know what the hell is.

She leans towards me as I reach up and cup her face in my hands. I can feel whatever the hell we have between us hang thickly in the air. We don't belong in this world, but yet, here we are. And I'm almost glad because it means I got to meet her. Her lips tentatively brush mine and it sets a spark through me. I skip gentle and cautious and go straight to a 'I want to fuck your brains out right now' kind of kiss.

We can do gentle some other time. Not when Doyle's waiting on us the get back out there. I know I should stop now, that I'm pushing things, but I can't. Her mouth is so warm and tastes so fucking good and her lips are so soft, that I can't even imagine stopping.

It's getting hungrier and more heated by the second. I start kiss down her jaw and licking and sucking at her neck as she unbuttons the front of my shirt. I gasp as her cool fingers start trailing their way up my abs. This is bad. I shouldn't do this, it could get me killed. But there's a craving for her that I just cant shake.

Her fingers dip under my bra and I grab her ass, hard. She moans out so loud that I almost come right then. As soon as her lips are back on my mouth, we hear a click and freeze.

She pulls back, eyes round as saucers. I know I locked the door—which honestly only makes things worse—but, I'm still terrified. We start rebuttoning my shirt, but it's no good. There's still seven left when there's a thud. A really loud fucking thud.

Paddy Doyle just kicked in the fucking door. My ass is dead and I know it.

…..

….

**No me gusta this chapter. Oh well. It'll get better I hope haha**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Wow this took a long time to update. But I had to work out some kinks about where I wanted this story to go and how I wanted it to unfold. So, here it is. I hope it flows with the rest of the chapters since it's been forever since I updated it. **

…

He yanks me by the hair and slams me to the wall, my head tilted back and his knife pressing against my neck. I can feel the light trickle of blood oozing down and my breathing involuntarily quickens even though I don't want this fucker to know how scared I really am.

He looks down at my unbuttoned shirt and then to Maura who's standing by the couch, cheeks flushed and hair mused. He literally fucking growls and pushes mE back harder against the wall. "You been touching my daughter?"

I try to shake my head, but the knife just digs deeper into my neck. "No."

He dryly laughs and turns the blade to where I can feel my skin tearing. "Then why the hell is your shirt undone?"

Trying to swallow against the pressure on my throat, I stand on my toes to try and relieve some of the tension on my scalp from where he's pulling my hair so fucking hard. "Just…just helping her clean up like you said, Boss."

I wince as the blade moves farther across my skin as he turns to look at Maura. "That true?"

Her eyes briefly flick to mine and then back to his. She licks her lips and shakily nods. "She did attempt to help clean me off."

He yanks on my hair to make me stop squirming and then tilts his chin towards her. "Is that all?"

Her face goes pale and she looks between us, terror written all over her face. "We also," she clears her throat to get the rasp out of her voice, "We also had a brief conversation."

What the hell is wrong with her? She needs to shut the fuck up and say nothing else happened. I'd really rather not die today. He watches her for a moment and then turns to me, pure hate glowing in his eyes. He leans in so close to my face I feel his warm, sticky breath on my cheek. "If you _ever_ touch her, Rizzoli, your ass is as good as dead. Got it?"

I manage a tentative nod. "Got it," I manage to growl out through clenched teeth. I don't fucking appreciate being treated like the rest of his scum. I don't want this life, I didn't ask for this bullshit.

He pulls the knife back and shoves me away from the wall by my head. I stumble to catch myself and then stand up straight, defiantly staring him in the eyes without even bothering to try and staunch the cut on my neck. His upper lip curls and he spits at my feet. "You're lucky I didn't kill you when I had the chance. I almost regret letting your sorry ass live. And you know what happens when I regret something, don't you?"

I want to tell him I'm sorry he let me live too, that I regret waking up every day knowing I'm working for him, but I don't. I have no doubts he'd fucking kill me right here and now. I shove my hands in my pockets and look down to the floor. "Yeah, I know. Won't happen again, Boss."

"Damn right it won't." He looks between me and Maura and then points over his shoulder. "Now get the hell out before I change my mind, you piece of shit."

It's all I can do not to kill him right then and there. But even if I managed to do it, what would it get me? His lackeys would either fucking kill me or turn me in and my ass would go to jail anyway. I clench my hands into fists and give Maura one last look before I walk out the door. For all I know, it could be the last time I ever see her. And from the look in her watery eyes…she's thinking the very same thing.

I make it all the way outside the club and into the cold air until I press my hand to my neck. It's not bleeding much, but it's still bleeding. That fucking cunt. There has got to be a way to get out of this—to get _us_ out of this. I know she could leave any time she wanted and be okay, but her clinic wouldn't be. And from the way she talks, it means damn near everything to her. There's no way I'm going to let him hold that shit over her head anymore.

The cab driver looks at me suspiciously but doesn't say anything, thank fucking God. I couldn't handle anyone else's bullshit right now. I throw my money across the seat at him without counting it after we pull up to my apartment.

When I get inside, I walk straight to the bathroom. No wonder the driver looked at me like I was a fucking lunatic. My shirt is still half unbuttoned, blood is smeared across my neck and still managing to trickle out, and specks of it is adorning my collar. Not to mention my blood covered hands. I strip down to my tanktop and wash my hands before walking to the kitchen—not even bothering cleaning up my neck. It'll just bleed more anyway and it's not like I have anything to fucking cover it with.

Grabbing a glass, I fill it to the brim with cheap whiskey and flop on the couch. Of course there'd be nothing remotely interesting on tv, there never is by the time I manage to make it home. It's fucking hard having a real day job and an fucking horrible night one.

I don't even feel slightly buzzed after I finish the whiskey. When you drink as much as I do just to make it through this shitty ass hand I've been dealt, you're tolerance gets pretty fucking high. I'm halfway done pouring another when there's a knock on the door and I instantly freeze. I set the bottle down and wait until there's another light tap against it.

My heart's beating in my chest and my hands start to shake as I grab my gun. No one comes to visit me anymore—not even Ma. She got tired of seeing me spiraling down into this hole I'm in. This fucking can't be good. I slowly make my way over to the door and look into the peep hole.

My heart instantly feels like it drops to my stomach. I fling open the door and grab Maura's arm to quickly jerk her inside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I slam the door and lock all four of the locks before looking back at her. She's in tight leather pants and a white shirt, dark green leather jacket to match. I look like I've been drug through the wringer and she looks fucking great. It almost pisses me off even more. She sets her bag down on the coffee table before looking back at me and tilting her head. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"By coming _here_? Great plan, Maura. You know he keeps an eye out on me. Which means they probably saw you waltz up in here like the princess that you apparently think you are." I look through the peephole one more time before turning back to her, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. "Do you actually _want_ me to die?"

Her eyebrows knit and she shakes her head. "Of course I don't. That's the whole reason I came over here. I wanted to make sure you had properly taken care of your neck so you _wouldn't_ get an infection and possibly die."

She scowls as she starts pulling things out of her bag. "And _of course_ I know they keep an eye on you. That's why I entered through the back way."

There's a back way into my apartment building? Why the hell didn't_ I _know that? I take a step closer to her, skepticism written all over my face. "How do you know they weren't watching back there, too?"

"Because they're lazy. They never do anything above and beyond what Paddy says to do." She shrugs and finally looks back up at me. "If he tells them to watch you and you came in the front, they're going to stay in front of the building. I've been around this far longer than you, Jane. I know how it works and how to get around small obstacles such as this."

Well isn't she just fucking smart. And I don't think trying to make sure I stay alive is a very small obstacle, thanks. She takes a tentative step to me, arm outreached towards my neck. "May I?"

There really isn't any reason for me to trust her enough to do this, but her eyes are shining and pleading with me and there's no way I can deny her. "Yeah. I don't think you can make it much worse."

"Actually, I could." She pushes some of my hair back away from my neck and looks back up at me. "But I won't. I actually enjoy the time I spend with you. It wouldn't do me any good if you were deceased."

I can't help but laugh at how blunt she is. I like her more and more every time I'm around her, even if I don't completely trust her yet. Her eyebrows scrunch together as she scrutinizes my neck and then she grabs her stuff of the table. "I think this is better suited for the restroom. Do you mind if we…?"

I hold my arm out to the only door on the far side of the room and nod. "Yeah. I mean, no. Uh, I mean sure. We can go in there."

What the fuck was that all about? She grins as she walks into the bathroom and lays stuff out on the counter. She points to the toilet and I sit down, after I make sure the lid is closed. The last thing I need is an embarrassment like that.

"This might sting." She grabs some alcohol wipes and gently starts wiping it against my skin. I swear to shit I almost fucking start crying. It's been a really long fucking time since anyone has even shown half this much compassion towards me.

I manage to hold it together though, and goosebumps form all across my body as she blows cold air across my neck. She pulls back with a satisfied grin and throws them in the trash. She's going to be the death of me if Doyle doesn't kill me first.

She manages to bandage it up in record time and lightly dances her fingers across my collarbone as she admires her work. "It shouldn't scar too badly, but the edges were quite ragged so I can't be certain." She leans in close to my face and her almost too-perfect smell surrounds me, pulls me in. Our lips are almost touching when she pauses. "Even with the scars, I still think you're beautiful."

She's talking about my hands and possibly my neck and it's the only time anyone's ever acknowledged them in a way that _doesn'_t make me fucking hate them. How she managed to do that, I'll never know. I put my hand on her cheek and pull her closer so that are lips are touching and I stand up, pulling her with me. I back her up until she's pressed against the wall and she gasps, her mouth opening just enough for my tongue to flit inside. She tastes like grapes from her wine and her lips are so fucking soft that I don't think I ever want to stop kissing her.

My hands move under her shirt to the warm, unbelievably smooth skin of her stomach and her hips push forward into mine. She sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and nips at it as my hands roam higher to her ribs and rest just under her bra. I reach down and grab one of her thighs and wrap it around my waist as I slowly start grinding into her.

She starts panting for breath and I move my other hand under her bra, thumb lightly rubbing across her nipple. She moans and pushes her chest harder into my hands. I start squeezing, kneading her tit and rolling her nipple between my fingers until she sharply gasps and pulls back. I instantly freeze, afraid that I hurt her. "Are you okay?"

Cheeks flushes, she nods and drops her leg back down to the floor. "Yes. But I should go before we get carried away. I don't," her eyes scan my face and I pull my hand out from her shirt, "I don't want to rush this. I know we've had a few…_experiences_, but this is different. I don't want to rush it."

I drop my head down to look at the floor. "Yeah. I know." We're treading a thin line and I want her to stay and not rush it, take all the time in the world with her, but deep down I know that's not possible. Certainly not here at my apartment where anyone can bust in at any time. I place my hand on the wall beside her head and look back up to her face. "But I wish you could stay."

She places her hand up on my face and rubs her thumb across my cheek. "I do, too. Perhaps I can someday."

I give a wry smile. We both know it's probably never going to happen. "Yeah, maybe."

I push myself off away from the wall and step back so she can grab her stuff, but she doesn't. She walks out to the living room to pick up her purse and I follow behind her. Even fully clothed, her ass still looks great. Damn. I've got it fucking bad.

She walks beside me to the door and turns to me before I can open it. Her hand wraps around the nape of my neck and she stands on her tiptoes to give me one last kiss before she leaves. She pulls back, eyes filled with more sadness than I can even fathom. "I'll see you around?"

Fuck paddy and all this shit he's pulled me in. I don't even really _know_ her, but I already know I'm not letting whatever this is that we have go. I gently squeeze her hand and nod. "You can count on it."

…

…

**Hopefully the next update won't take 900 years. Thoughts or comments? Do share if you wanna. I love hearing what you have to say!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Long time! I just get on certain kicks with certain stories. But! On to finish this one as per request. (How is it already March?!)**

…

It's only a day later that Doyle has me coming back to this damn club. He's either pretending last night didn't happen or something really awful is going to go down and I'm the last to know about it. At this point, I'm not even sure I really care.

Not after Maura left and I drank and drank in pity and self-hate until the bottle was empty and I could finally fall into a dead sleep. A sleep that left me with a horrible fucking hangover that I've been battling all day—which has left me lagging around.

Which is never a good thing when I need to be on my feet. And I definitely need to be on my toes.

Especially where Paddy Doyle is concerned.

But as soon as I step foot into the VIP room, Maura's power walking towards me in those massive heels with a steely face, and grabbing my bicep—pulling and tugging until she's dragging me out the way I came in.

I try to pull away from her. "What the—"

"We have to go, Jane," she says, urgency filling her voice as she continues to pull me down the hall. We get to a red fire alarm and she pulls it, immediately running towards the door as it sounds—a blaring, awful sound with lights starting to flash around us. I have no choice but to follow since she's gripping my arm like it's a lifeline.

Stronger than she looks, I'll give her that.

I really have no fucking idea what's going on but as soon as we're outside, she jogs towards my car as people start yelling behind us. Fumbling with the lock, it finally clicks and I jump inside. Maura falls into the passenger seat, and I look over with my eyebrows raised and breathing hard.

"What the hell is going on?"

She unzips her bag and starts pulling on some jeans over her show clothes. "We need to go," she urges, fumbling with her pants zipper. "That building is going to be decimated in less than three minutes and everyone is going to be out in less than two. You don't want Paddy to catch up with us before we even have a chance to make it out of here, do you?"

My head tilts in disbelief. "_Decimated?_"

Like I said, hangovers throw me off.

"Jane, you need to drive," she insists, her face filled with concern as she leans over to crank the car. "_Now._ I'll explain on the way."

Conflicted and more than a little nervous—this is going to get me in some _deep_ shit—I glance to the door and see Paddy and his men run out; their guns aimed towards my car. No fucking way is this happening. I'm not about to die in my own car without an explanation first.

No time to think, no time to talk. I gun it, wheels squealing as I pull out of the parking lot. There's two pops and then three as bullets hit the trunk of my car.

Goddamnit. I just bought this stupid thing.

Adrenaline pumping, I flip on the headlights and barrel down the road. Not bothering to stop at stop signs or red lights, darting in and out of thick traffic. Maura braces herself against the dash.

Barely minutes later, there's a faint boom and my eyes jerk up to the rearview mirror. There's a column of fire and smoke coming exactly from where the club should be that lights up the night sky. I look over at Maura—who's now fully dressed—and raise my eyebrows so far I swear to god they touch my hair line. "Mind telling what the hell is going on _now_?"

Taking a deep breath, she squeezes my arm in an effort to calm or comfort. "Drive out of Boston and head towards New York. I'll tell you where to stop when we get there. And as for what's going on…it should be fairly obvious."

It takes a few moments me to catch up and my eyes grow wide. I nearly stomp the breaks and turn around right then and there. "You killed two people in that first fire, Maura! So, what? You decided to do it again? One time not enough for you?"

"No," she firmly shakes her head. "Those two men were already dead. I only wanted to get rid of Paddy's headquarters and, subsequently, his paperwork."

"That worked out just peachy," I mumble before jerking my head up. "Wait…what do you mean they were already dead?"

"They were murdered," she looks out the window so her calm façade doesn't break. "I saw it happen."

I'm not sure if I believe her. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. "Who did it?"

A soft sigh comes from her. "Rus."

"No," I refute, pulling onto the side of the road. "There's no way. You've gotta be shitting me."

"I can't lie, Jane," she replies, finally looking towards me with a softened face. "I saw him do it. A deal had gone bad and he was afraid Paddy was going to kill him for losing that much money. So he went after them to try and make ends meet."

_Son of a bitch._ My jaw clenches. I trusted him. I'm such a fucking idiot. He would've sold me out in a minute to save his own skin.

I throw my hand up towards her. "So you blew up the place instead of calling the cops?

Her eyes narrow in defiance. "And what, Jane? Blow your cover and let them send you to jail?" Her head shakes, a humorless laugh. "I know you're not like them. You don't deserve to live like this and neither do I."

We sit in silence as the words and revelations sink in. This is the biggest shit show if I've ever saw one.

Finally, I pull back on the road. I'm not sure why I trust her—especially now that I know even Rus was scum—but I do. So I do as she says and drive towards New York.

The silence is excruciating. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. "Do you think anyone died back there?"

"I told the girls to get all of the clients out as soon as they heard the alarm. They trust me. They listened and made it out," she says with a nod to convince herself. "And we saw Paddy and the other men come out too. I'm…I'm almost certain everyone is alive."

Looking over at her, I shrug. "And if they aren't?

She raises her eyebrow. "Then I'll be going to jail if we get caught, so you better keep driving."

I can't help but laugh in astonishment. "Jesus Christ, Maura. Jesus Christ."

She starts wringing her hands, and looks back out the window into the night. I bite my lip.

"Why'd you do it? Set this one I mean?"

Shrugging, she looks at me with watery eyes that she's desperately trying to hide. She looks beautiful even in her panic; even when I know now is not the time to be thinking about that stuff.

"You weren't invited back tonight for a meeting, Jane. He had no intentions of letting you leave that place alive."

My hands tighten on the wheel until my knuckles grow white. I knew it. And whatever he was going to do to me tonight is surely going to be 100 times worse because of this fucking stunt.

Running away _and_ stealing his daughter—I'm in so much trouble.

"I was so tired of sitting there every weekend watching you wither away and live a life you didn't want, Jane. I wanted more for you and for myself," she finally says, voice only a whisper as an errant tear falls. "If I had to commit a crime to get us out of there, so be it. I'm not one to play judge and jury, but…Paddy and his men were doing far worse. To many, many more people. "

I glance in the mirror to make sure no one is tailing us before reaching down and squeezing the hand that has somehow made its way back on my thigh. "We're in some deep shit, you know that?"

Maura lets out a weak laugh. "I know."


End file.
